


Teen Idle

by Pixie (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Academy Era, Flirting, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Implied Relationships, Party, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: Tired of appearing predictable, Katrina convinces her friends to crash a party.





	Teen Idle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radioactive_violet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioactive_violet/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [radioactive_violet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioactive_violet/pseuds/radioactive_violet) in the [july2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/july2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**   
>  _Light hearted (or serious) Academy era shenanigans. Because at one point they were all young and trying to figure life out. Shipping or lack thereof up to you._
> 
>  
> 
> Takes place in the early 2220s. Katrina and her friends are college aged, Sarek is in his later 50s.

"Because I've never done anything unexpected in my whole life."

In contradiction to the words, it's not the answer Katrina expected. There is a decided lack of romance, nor even a nod to sexual attraction, either of which would be reasonable as related to the subject of Winona dating--

"Gabriel Lorca?"

Her friend cringes at the tone of disbelief, or possibly the idea itself. "I know. I don't know." It's not that they'd never discussed it. They'd discussed all their classmates in what might actually be too much detail -- they're scientists and dating is definitely an experiment, particularly in Katrina's realm of study. But they'd dismissed it easily. Gabriel's a good friend but also an uptight romantic with a well developed sense of entitlement. He can be charming but he can also make them want to punch him in the face. "He's not George," Winona offers.

Kat considers this. George and Winona were 'George and Winona' through most of secondary school and came to the Academy together. But until then, Winona had never been outside Iowa for more than a weekend and she was determined to develop her own identity before settling down with anyone, even the boy she's loved since middle school. In that context, Gabriel is not George. But outside that context, well, they're kinda cut from the same cloth. 

"He's not really not George either."

Winona shrugs. "Starfleet's made up of goody-goodys."

Kat raises an eyebrow. "Us included?"

"Of course!" Winona giggles. " _You_ 've never done anything unexpected in your life either."

Katrina opens her mouth to retort but she has no standing to do so. Winona is entirely correct in the assessment: she's always been the Responsible One. Since childhood she's been proud to be, but it suddenly feels like the most terrible thing anyone could say about her. What else could even be said? She's competent and clever and bright and  _boring_. Least likely to do anything worth talking about ever. It wouldn't even make her a good officer. Also since childhood she knows: risk is Starfleet's business model. She straightens her shoulders. 

"Okay. So. Challenge."

Winona's eyes flicker up from the rim of her glass to her friend's eyes, twinkling with resolve. 

"What?"

"Let's go." Kat stands, pulls Winona up with her, the liquid of their near finished drinks splashing as her hip jostles the table. Winona blinks.

"Go?"

"C'mon." Not waiting for a response, Katrina marches towards the door with purpose, leaving Winona to press her thumb to a screen before scrambling after.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere unexpected."

"How do we-"

Winona crashes into Kat's back when she stops abruptly to watch a broadcast from the public comm.

"Ow. What are you-"

Katrina points to the screen with a grin, pulling up her personal communicator to call for back-up. Winona rises up on her toes to focus on the words scrolling by toward the bottom of the screen.

"What-" Her eyes go wide. "No!"

 

"No!" she repeats, not quite an hour later, as they watch a throng of formally dressed officers and politicians and well-connected citizens file into the building. Katrina ignores her, watching the street for their friends' arrival. Winona tugs a sleeve for attention and hisses, "Kat, at least five flag officers have gone by!"

Katrina shrugs. "We’re Starfleet, too."

"Until we get _caught_."

"This is how some people get promotions," Kat assures her and presses a comforting hand to her shoulder. Winona shakes her head.

"You’re insan-"

"Kat?" Philippa's voice carries over the din.

Katrina pushes off Winona to wave as they turn together. "Here!"

Philippa, Afsaneh, Gabriel, and George appear on the path behind them, all dressed in formal wear, all blinking in confusion. 

"Is there a reason you’re hiding in the bushes?" George asks. 

Winona scrunches her nose. Katrina stands, brushing twigs off her knees.

"Reconnaissance."

"What?"

Afsaneh waves her hands. "I thought we were going to a party."

"We are," Kat agrees.

"I dressed for a party."

"And you look amazing." Afsaneh smiles. Katrina turns to Philippa. "Did you bring it?"

"What? Oh." Pippa shakes her head to clear it and hands over a garment bag. Kat pulls out two gowns and passes one over to Winona before pulling her top off. George and Philippa avert their eyes; Gabriel does not.

"Where’s the party?" Afsaneh asks. Kat waves her hands in the general direction of the museum. Afsaneh steps closer to the trees, peering into the crowd. "Is that...?"

Winona sighs. "Yes." George and Gabriel move up behind Afsaneh as Philippa pulls her over to get dressed.

"You were invited to the Admiral’s Ball?!"

Katrina pauses to brush her hair out of her face. "Well..." She dissolves into giggles as four heads swing to stare. Winona sighs again. 

George shakes his head. "You can’t be serious."

"Thank you!" Winona exclaims. Finally someone on her side.

Gabriel leans in to look closer at Katrina. "Are you okay?"

"I’m great."

"Is she okay?" he asks Winona. She shrugs. He turns back to Kat. "Are you drunk? Do you have a fever?"

She purses her lips. "No, but I’m starting to be angry."

He has the decency to look chagrinned. Pippa touches a hand to her arm.

"It’s just. This isn’t like you."

"That’s the whole point."

There's an edge to her voice and her body is rigid with tension. Winona doesn't understand why this is so important to her.

"We could do something unexpected that isn’t as likely to get us thrown out," she suggests.

"Or arrested," adds George.

Afsaneh rolls her eyes. "It’s not illegal to crash a party."

"Are you sure?"

Katrina squares her shoulders and turns toward the crowd winding their way up the steps. "None of you have to come if you don’t want to," she tells her friends before approaching a small group of Vulcans with purpose and a wide smile.

"Hello, Ambassador," she addresses the eldest of the Vulcans, broad shouldered and graying, with a stern expression and elaborate robes. "Cadet Bond." She doesn't offer her hand, but bows slightly with deference and explains, "I've been assigned to escort your contingent into the gala."

The Ambassador glances towards his aides, who all answer with an almost imperceptible shake of their head. With a slight frown he returns his gaze to the young woman in front of him.

"Cadet?"

"Bond. James Bond."

Katrina hears someone cough behind her, but keeps her attention focused on the Vulcans.

"I was not aware we'd be assigned a Starfleet escort."

"Yes." She gestures toward her friends, lined up on the path behind her, watching with some amazement, and then to the crowd beyond them. "As are the ambassadors to Andor, Tellar, Betazed..."

The elder Vulcan meets her eyes; his dark and severe, hers bright and determined. She blushes slightly under his scrutiny, but her gaze is unblinking and she doesn't look away.

"Very well. Sarek." One of the aides steps forward, younger, taller, with curious eyes that sweep over Katrina, causing her blush to deepen. "My deputy," the Ambassador tells her. 

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Cadet Bond." Sarek's voice and manner convey the odd pairing of formality and eagerness and Katrina's lips quirk as she lowers her shoulders in another small bow. The Ambassador nods - Sarek would be taking over the post and may as well get some practice in - and moves on with his two remaining aides. Sarek gestures for Katrina to follow at his side, but she's glancing to her friends again.

"Will you excuse me just a moment?" At his nod she walks to the group and pulls them into a huddle to avoid prying Vulcan ears. "Okay. Pick an ambassador and introduce yourself. Bourne. Bristow. Bauer." She points to each of her friends in turn. "Bartowski. Barnes. Stay with them through introductory remarks but after that we can do whatever we like."  Her instructions are met with a full range of expressions: Afsaneh is delighted, Gabriel amused, Winona resigned, George disturbed, and Philippa is looking at her like she's turned purple - and she finds it attractive.

"We'll meet under the painting of The Blue Lady," Katrina continues. She grew up in San Francisco and her parents attended these events all the time. She knows the area and the protocol. This will work. "Go! Have fun."

Afsaneh laughs and bounds off, pulling Philippa behind her. Gabriel follows with a wink and Winona a shrug, leaving a reluctant George with worried eyes. "Are you sure-?"

Kat grabs his hands and swings him toward the stairs. "Go! I have a date with a hot Vulcan." With that she turns heel and saunters back to Sarek. "Thank you for waiting. There were a few last minute details I had to relay." They start walking. 

"You are their commander?"

She swallows a laugh. "No. Well. I guess their leader, in this case." He raises a eyebrow. "Outreach," she explains, blithely.

"Ah. Is it part of your studies?"

"Sometimes. More extracurricular." He nods. "My friend," she points to Gabriel, walking with a trio of Caitians, "is an Interplanetary Relations major but I'm more focused on the interpersonal. Same idea but the scope is smaller."

"Are you in Communications?"

She shakes her head. "Medical. I study xenopsychology. There's a whole unit on Vulcans!" Her bright smile falters at the slight frown that crosses his features and she rushes to add, "Which is hardly a full understanding but I hope lays a foundation..." She bites her lip to stave off her tendency to babble when nervous. Sarek's eyes flicker at the movement and she feels her cheeks grow warm again.

"Have you met many Vulcans?"

"Not many as inquisitive as you."

Sarek averts his eyes. "My apologies."

"Oh! No. No-" Her hands flutter at her side. If he was human she'd clutch his arm, or grasp a hand, to reassure, but she knows not to touch a Vulcan. "I like it."

His eyes meet hers and she can sense he has more questions, but they've reached the top of the steps. He turns to one of the officers collecting names, all in dress uniforms that mark them as Security, though they wear no visible weapons. Katrina presses her lips flat as the lieutenant pulls up Vulcan on his padd and nods for Sarek to identify himself. 

"Minister-Counselor Sarek and Cadet Bond." The security officer makes a note on his device and waves them in, presumably believing she's Sarek's 'plus one'. Katrina feels a bit heady as she follows the Vulcan through the doors.

 

The museum is full to bursting with people. In addition to the guests and security, there are servers passing trays of delicacies and tending bar, and a small orchestra made up of a variety of Federation species and instruments. An hour after the President's welcome, everyone is mingling with everyone else and the 'Starfleet escorts' find each other easily by an oil painting of a large sailing vessel. Afsaneh and Gabriel applaud when Katrina arrives and she does a little twirl to hide her embarrassment. 

Philippa shakes her head. "I can't believe that worked."

"It hasn't yet," George cautions.

Gabriel shrugs. "We're in and no one's the wiser." He hands Winona a drink.

"One of these people is going to say something to Starfleet," she murmurs over the rim. 

"And they'll probably send a fruit basket in thanks," Kat dismisses with a wave of her hand. She grew up around diplomats. She knows how they work. 

"So?" Winona objects, her drink splashing onto her fingers. "We'll still be found out."

Afsaneh drops a comforting hand on her shoulder. "That's why we're using aliases." She winks. Winona rolls her eyes and drains the glass.

George frowns. "Who are we anyway?"

"Fictional spies from the 20th century," Kat explains. "They all made excellent bedtime stories."

Philippa shakes her head again. "You had a weird childhood." 

"Maybe." Pippa laughs and reaches across to squeeze Kat's hand. 

"I want to dance." Afsaneh turns to George but he begs off. "They don't dance in Iowa?"

" _George_ doesn't dance anywhere," Winona interjects and then coughs because she's not sure why she felt the need.

"I want to dance!" Afsaneh asserts and pulls Philippa, laughing, towards the ball room. There are enough people dancing, drinking, and mingling, they don't stand out and even Winona's nerves calm. Katrina spies Sarek standing on the other side of the room, hands clasped and head tilted to watch the crowd. She waves a hand and after a baffled pause, he waves back.

Gabriel drops his chin over her shoulder and asks in a low voice, "Are you flirting with that Vulcan?"

"Why not?" Her tone is light, teasing, she chooses to ignore the vague tension beneath the question, between them.

"He thinks you’re James Bond."

Katrina turns, presses into his chest, close enough to smell pine and feel his breath on her bare neck. "All the more reason to do it."

Her eyes flicker up to meet his gaze and she reads unabashed desire. He wants to rip her dress off right here in front of everyone, and the way this night is playing out she just might let him. She lowers her eyes, takes a step back and then two more, balls her hands into fists to stop her heart beating so fast. Finally she takes a sharp breath and looks up, a wide smile across her face. 

"So, you and Winona."

Gabriel's eyes narrow, uncertain. "She told you."

"Yes. We tell each other things." More truthfully Winona tells her things. Katrina seldom reciprocates and she can tell he knows it. She continues in a rush, "I think it's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They settle into silence, watching each other's eyes, not moving, barely breathing. The moment extends, the silence starts to be awkward, uncomfortable. His lips twitch. She wants to touch them, but she knows - he's going to say something and she doesn't want to hear it, doesn't want it said. 

She laughs, high pitched and breathless. "I want a drink. Do you want something?"

Gabriel's lips part, he breathes in deeply and moves his head very faintly side to side. "No." His eyes say 'yes', and more, and she looks away. "I’m good."

"Catch you later," she quips and bounces off, toward the bar, and away from his lingering eyes and emotions.

 

When she returns, with a bottle and two glasses, Gabriel and Winona have joined Afsaneh and Philippa on the dance floor. The crowd is thinning, Sarek has disappeared, and she doubts even an overly curious Vulcan would join her in a drink anyway. George is still seated under the shadow of The Blue Lady, brooding about broken rules and bent truths no doubt. She drops beside him, kicks off her shoes, and pours two drinks. Passing one to George she presses her lips to the rim of the other and takes a deep sip. George accepts the glass and follows suit. Side by side, they watch the party wind down.

"So," he says after a moment, "Winona and Gabriel."

Katrina nods, and takes another swig, but when she catches his look, she sets the glass down and leans in brush her lips his cheek. "They're just having fun."

George accepts this analysis with a nod and small, wistful smile. He looks her over. "Are you?"

"Am I…?"

"Are you having fun?"

Kat turns to look at the party, the remaining ambassadors and officers, bored bartenders and drunk diplomats, her best friends dancing. Winona is curled into Gabriel's arms, their eyes low, their thoughts hidden. Philippa shakes her hair out and spins in place, the low light giving her a kind of halo as she twirls. Afsaneh notices Katrina watching and blows a kiss.  She turns back to George, with a wide grin.

"Yes," she answers and clinks their glasses together. "To us."

George smiles, drains his glass, and drops his arm across her shoulders, pulling her tight against his body.

"To us."


End file.
